


It gets worse before it gets better

by britishngay



Series: Come over [11]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, F/F, I would like to formally apologise for this, oof this hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishngay/pseuds/britishngay
Summary: You walk over to Heather’s house with the express desire to talk to her.(Or it gets worse, so much worse)
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer
Series: Come over [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454131
Comments: 17
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

You walk over to Heather’s house with the express desire to talk to her.

It’s only just gone past nine when you leave your house, it’s not even that cold anymore, not like the kind of freezing that you’re used to. You’re terrified, but Martha has made you more courageous for once and you will take advantage of this feeling. You spend time walking over to her house because you just need to think for a second, which is ironic considering how much you like to ignore or repress your thoughts. You go through your game plan, say you want to talk, she’ll furrow her eyebrows and give your maybe ten seconds to say your piece. If she goes for denial, talk to her even more, if she gets angry try to give her a hug, if she cries? You actually don’t know, maybe kisses? Stop thinking so much, if you go on instinct everything will become a lot easier than thinking everything through so quickly. 

When you get there you spend a second staring at her house, it’s bigger than yours, but not by much. It’s big enough where you can see that their family is rich but not gaudy like Mac’s house. You take a while, checking over everything, yellow light spills from Heather’s room onto those tiles that are goddamn slippery. The downstairs is dark and that’s how you know that her parents are either home or at least one of them is passed out already.

You take a breath and move.

Climbing up her house has never felt so intense, and you’ve done it when frost has made on almost impossible to do. You knock on her window, the blind rolls up and there she is, god she really is beautiful isn’t she. She’s looking at you differently. Before she would seem relieved and her lips would turn up slightly in a contented smile. Now, though, she looks at you with a slightly blank expression, with a touch of disdain. She lets you in with a huff.

“I didn’t call.” Her words are sharp as you climb into her room. Okay, ouch. That hurts, they cut into you, making you doubt everything you thought, everything you wanted to say.

“I know, I wanted to talk.” You say carefully, she’s in one of those moods which isn’t easily swayed, the mood that she conquered the school with.

“Who’s to say I want to talk?” She says, her arms are crossed now and she’s looking at you like she did the first day in the bathroom, it feels like you’re in an episode of the Twilight Zone. Everything you thought you knew about the other woman seems to mean nothing, everything is wrong. You try to scramble together a sentence but all your previous bravado is gone.

“Why are you here Veronica?”

“I want to-“

“Yes I know you want to talk. But why?” Her voice is stony.

You don’t know what to say, your mouth feels like you just swallowed cement, you’ve never been affected by her like this. Maybe it’s because you were so ready for another Heather, the kind you actually like, and the one you could have maybe loved.

“And about what? Our fucking?” She lets out a bitter, hollow laugh, her head falling back, showing off her impressive jawline and neck. “Did you actually think it meant something? Come on Ronnie.” Even the way she says your nickname is mocking. Each of her words stab you where it hurts the most. How could you be so stupid, how could you have let it get this far?

“Heather this isn’t like you.” You manage to get out before she carves away at your emotions again.

“You don’t know me Veronica. You don’t deserve to know me.” She snaps. Wow, playing the popular card, you can’t tell if she’s faking this or not anymore, the pain it’s causing hurts like it’s real.

You’ve know your whole life that your clever, but right in this moment, you feel so goddamn stupid.

You didn’t think that you could fall such a victim to her games, there’s no way that it was all a lie. Your birthday, all the smiles and secret conversations, all for a lie? One of Heather Chandler’s games? You never thought you could be so stupid. A part of you is screaming that she’s faking this cruelness, faking it to protect herself. But it all hurts too much for you think straight, the feeling of betrayal fucking claws at your insides and your stupidity makes you feel like such an idiot.

“This is cruel even for you Heather.” You voice shakes and you see her face drop for a second, the Heather that you know is hiding underneath her eyes full of guilt and fear but then her mask slips back into place and her lips twist into one of those gut-wrenching smirks that makes freshmen run and hide from the Mythic bitch herself.

“You know that I’m a cruel person Veronica.” She says in that condescending tone that makes your skin crawl and you shake your head, letting out a choked laugh. You can’t take it anymore.

“Okay Heather.” You say, you don’t have the heart to fight her, not after everything you’d planned to say was gunned down in the first few seconds of talking to her, you thought that you could comfort her that you could tell her how you feel and how she’s allowed to be afraid; but not like this, not when her hate feels so goddamn real – you can’t even tell if it is or not. You turn to leave, feeling empty inside. 

“And don’t worry Heather,” you say, halfway out of her window, a bit of bravery strikes, “your dirty little secret is safe with me,“ you think for a second then rehash your statement.

”Wait, no, we both know that your greatest fear was people finding out, I won’t tell a soul if you promise not to talk to me like you actually care ever again.”

She doesn’t say anything as you leave.

You went to Heather’s with the express desire to talk to her, you talked alright, but your heart is a fuck load more broken then you wanted it to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I really don't know how good this is, I needed to write it for plot, so this is kind of an apology in case you don't like this chapter and/or it's boring or something
> 
> Also the 'fuck' is used a fuckton so warning if you don't like swearing?

You walk into school on Monday dressed like a Heather, but you walk straight past them, smelling that cherry perfume on the way. That makes you slow for a step but then you carry on, walking toward Martha and the others.

“Don’t you have lipstick gestapo duty?” JD asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Not for the next couple of days, besides, I missed you guys. Come on, we all have the same homeroom.” You say, faking a smile, your tone coming across bitter. Your eyes meet Martha’s and she makes a face of understanding that twists your gut and all you want to do is hide, but you can’t, you can’t give her the satisfaction. You walk with them, listening to Betty talk about the History homework she didn’t do while Martha gives her the rundown, you feel eyes on your back and a few whispers from people around you. Is it really that crazy that I stay away from the Heathers for a day or two?

Probably.

The piranhas of Westerberg watch you go by, they love that kind of drama which doesn’t involve themselves, only your life and your feelings and you’re pain. No one really knows how to act, Heather hadn’t made some great speech about how you’re not to be touched with a ten foot pole unless you want the Heathers on your ass, Kurt and Ram didn’t make noises at you as you walked down the hall, you just go. You make it to homeroom without saying much, you were still reeling from Heather’s words on Friday, still confused over why she said it and why she would hurt you like this. Even if it was just a front to protect herself, it still fucking hurt, it was still goddamn cruel of her, you would have happily heard her out if she talked to you, but no, she had to just go and do whatever the fuck she did on Friday. And the worst part is that you can’t even fucking tell if it’s a front or her just being a bitch. You almost ghost through your first through couple of lessons, answering questions when asked, handing in homework when you needed to. You just don’t understand, you want to move on, want to just forget everything especially the humiliating circumstances with Heather. By the time lunch rolls around, you feel a better. Between JD’s snarky comments at Ram and Kurt and Betty’s ability to get you a few more tater tots than usual because she’s friends with all of the lunch ladies.

“Do you reckon that Ram knows that his head is just filled with rocks?” JD says, making you choke on some of the dry-ass food that the cafeteria gives you.

“No, I think Kurt might, Ram thinks that his head is full of corned beef or something.” Betty replies, drinking a juice box, one of her legs on the bench, while the other stays on the floor.

“Nah, too nutritional. It’s gotta be chicken scraps or something.” He hits back, his smile twisting into that mischievous smirk that makes everything seem funnier than it actually is.

You all burst into laughter, Martha trying to hide it more than the others but you can’t help it, they’re just such easy targets to make fun of. You suppose you should feel bad, but they’ve felt nothing but enjoyment from victimising your friends for years so you don’t feel like you should feel any guilt. Ooh, is that a shitty thing to say? Probably, but you can’t find the heart to care. You feel a pair of eyes on you and you turn to see Heather looking at you, you can’t see what she’s feeling. Not only has she placed a mask over herself so you don’t understand what she is trying to say, but you can see the small amount of regret or guilt in her face and you can’t even look at her anymore. Except you can’t stop. It feels like you two are the only ones in the room until she finally gives in and starts to stir around the shitty food. You feel a sense of pride, having won a staring contest with the great Heather Chandler. It's hard to avoid her when she's all everyone seems to be thinking about at any given second of the day.

“Yo, didn’t I completely school greenie in beer pong at yours?” Betty asks you, as if everyone is the group wasn't there on Saturday and everyone was either playing or watching her play.

“Piss off, you barely played.” You reply, you can handle this banter easily, just insult each other while not really insulting each other.

“I’m just saying that I beat her completely.”

“We were all there Betty, it was a pretty even game.” JD interjects.

“Hey, I did not come here to get abused.”

“No, you came here to brag about a mediocre game.” JD high fives you for that and, you’ve missed this, it’s completely different to what you say when the Heathers are around. For a moment you forget about the pain that you’ve been caused, and that you could’ve avoided if you had not let yourself get so carried away with it all.

That’s when it hits you.

You tried to talk to her, you tried to get her to listen to you. You _tried._ You’ve tried multiple times, the first night, you apologised, you tried to fix the fucked up relationship you’d had before it got even more fucked from the fucking. You came over after you hung up, not only were you very horny, but you wanted to make sure she knew that it wasn’t personal. God, you’ve tried so many times, you’ve placated and held back comments and tried to change her to be better because you know that deep, extremely fucking deep, down that she’s not a half bad person. In return all you got was pain because she can’t process any sort of emotion that’s not orgasms or joy from other people’s misery like a normal person.

Fuck it.

The ball is in your court Heather Chandler, if she can’t handle it then that’s it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't kill me
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed xx
> 
> My tumblr is its3amandiamverytired is you wanna come over for a hoot
> 
> Comments are fab but please don't feel obligated to leave one


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